Le Mouton
by Barra Arisa Sanguine
Summary: After an argument some times words aren't enough to make someone forgive you, other times the words just won't do and you have to improvise. Bobby/John slash


**Title: **Le Mouton

**Pairing: **John/Bobby

**Prompt: **Argument, smile, ice.

**Warnings: **A bit of sap and fluff.

-

Bobby stared resolutely at his French homework, even if he can't remember what the word 'mouton' meant or even if he was reading it right. He doesn't remember what started the fight, though he can guess it was Rogue. John was always picking fights using her since she and Bobby had started dating. One thing led to another and then Bobby was glaring holes into his desk and John was sitting at the window on his fifth cigarette. Bobby could gage John's anger by the number of cigarettes he'd had since a fight. John chain smoking was never a good thing, he was really freaking pissed.

John was on his sixth cigarette. God was he fucking pissed. He knew exactly what had started their fight, Bobby was being pussy whipped and cancelled plans to go out with John in order to stay in and watch movies with his untouchable girlfriend. He was always blowing John off for Rogue, or so it seemed to John. He continued to stare out the window, like Bobby wasn't there. Some of the new mutants were playing Mutant Ball. John watched Anole's amazingly long tongue flick out and nail Skids with the ball. Out of the corner of his eye he looked at Bobby, doing his French homework. He'd been sitting there for a good fifteen minutes, staring at the sheet, unmoving. John knew he was upset.

Bobby opened his mouth to apologize then stopped. He doesn't want John yelling at him again. He doesn't think the people they share walls with can stand another fight so soon. Instead he just looks back down to his French homework. Le mouton. The sheep. Bobby grinned sardonically at himself, how fitting. He was acting like a scared sheep, not even looking at John or trying to resolve this. Sometimes, John just scared him so freaking much that Bobby lost all of his speech capabilities. He just lost the ability to form coherent thoughts and put them into words verbally. He just couldn't talk to John.

John sighed, letting out a lung full of toxic smoke, looking to Bobby then back out the window. He wanted to end this silence, but he just couldn't. Blame pride or just plain old stubbornness, but either way John still held his tongue and remained tense and silent. He couldn't be the one to say sorry first, he never was. He could never be the one to forgive; he could never admit out loud that Bobby meant so much to him. His tongue just swelled up in his mouth and made him choke on his words. They just wouldn't come out. So, he sat at the window and smoked his seventh cigarette and feigned indifference.

Bobby glanced cautiously up in John's direction again, looking through his blond bangs. Oh so carefully he moved his left hand under his desk, so the movement wouldn't alert John to anything suspicious. He might not be able to tell John he was sorry, but he could make the other boy smile. He exerted all the control he'd been learning on in the danger room for the last couple of months to keep the cold away from John as he worked. It took him what seemed like hours, each part had to be perfect and stay frozen in the sunlight without giving off its tell-tale cold. He finally finished and just watched John, letting the cold go out and brush along his skin.

John continued smoking, ignoring the light kiss of cold that Bobby couldn't hide from him because he was a pyrokinetic. Bobby was doing something with ice to his left and John fought not to look. It was a game of theirs, John ignored until Bobby was done and Bobby acted like he'd never done anything to begin with. A more substantial blast of cold hit John causing him to look to his left. He couldn't help it, he smiled.

Bobby had trouble sculpting the ice, he hadn't want to do something girly that'd make John laugh him or something stereotypical that'd make John angrier than he already was. When he finally decided upon an image he let go of the cold, letting John feel it. He knew John knew that he was doing something with ice and appreciated that he had the dignity not to look until Bobby made it obvious. When he saw John look and smile he couldn't help it, he smiled too.

**A/N: And this was done upon the request of my lovely Le Mouton because she asked. I left the object Bobby made for John unnamed because neither of us (LM or I) could decide what Bobby should make for John. Flames? Roses? Whatever it is you think Bobby made, share! And of course thanks goes to my wonderful beta, Screamyourmind.  
**


End file.
